Bonhomme Sept-Heures
- Publisher
- Renaissance Press
- Initial publish date
- Oct 2016
- Category
- Occult & Supernatural, Paranormal, Suspense
-
Paperback / softback
- ISBN
- 9781987963144
- Publish Date
- Oct 2016
- List Price
- $18.00
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Description
The darkness with a smile in it. Something is killing the children of Lac de Thé, a tiny Quebec town. No-one sees it. It leaves no evidence. The only suspect is a character from a centuries-old folk tale, and the only safety appears to depend on following the story's ancient rule: all children must be indoors at home by seven o'clock. Now, a mysterious government agent has summoned Adam Godwinson, former priest and book dealer, to help bring an end to the deaths, but the consequences of his last brush with the unthinkable lie heavily on him, and it may be Adam who needs rescuing most of all if anything is going to be done about Bonhomme Sept-Heures.
About the author
Evan May is a freelance writer and history professor who lives in Ottawa, Canada. He studied creative writing at the University of Windsor before moving on to study medieval history, concentrating on scamps and troublemakers in 15th century England. He has recently returned to writing down the strange things that live in his head. When not writing or teaching, Evan enjoys distance running and tending to the whims of two lazy cats.
Excerpt: Bonhomme Sept-Heures (by (author) Evan May)
The night outside was cool and clear, with a slight breeze coming in off the lake. Adam looked up and saw the flickering forms of a pair of bats against the deep blue of the twilight sky. He took a deep breath, started to smile, and then he felt it.
There was, abruptly, a filament of discomfort worming his way through his perceptions, a growing, prickling feeling that was not fatigue, uncertainty, or discomfort with Jack. It had wriggled in from outside, somehow, and Adam felt it was connected to some very real thing in the night-time world around him. The bait shop across the road had a pixelated display board that, as he watched, flashed over from a temperature in the low teens to a clock, reading 7:36pm. Adam saw the time in its bright red numbers and took an unthinking, involuntary step towards the motel door.
He stopped. He told himself he was being ridiculous. There was no danger, not just from being outside after a certain time. He started to turn around to look out across the lake again, but then, there in the middle of his back was the feeling of a presence, something palpably, horribly there in the space behind him. Every nerve screamed 'go inside' with a prey animal's instinct. Adam took another deep breath.
He told himself, firmly, that he was not here to run for cover and not here to hide. He pictured what Jack Lanthier would likely say if he scurried in from outside with some stammered explanation. He was, in some fashion, meant to confront whatever it was that had come to this town. Adam began the slow process of persuading himself to turn around, and was surprised to find that he had made a fist, as he did so, something deep in his brain stem expecting or hoping that the answer to his problems was punchable.
Adam turned around.
There was nothing, nothing but a patch of light cast by a streetlight with a few pieces of litter skittering through it on the wind. The orange-ish light also fell on a patch of weeds, the sign indicating the motel parking lot, and a small puddle in the gravel. The scene was thoroughly quiet, and the road was empty.
